If flowers on the grave could speak:
Every year on the death anniversary,comes a group of people,with bouquets, flowers in their hands,in the name rememberanceand reminisce,they stay a few minutes,leaves even before the candles melts. White flowers turn yellow,jasmine loses all of its fragrance,roses dries and dies,as the weather shiftswe wither as the dead one fades in photographs and in memories,but we […]
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